The Spectacular Spider-Dad
by ijs1337
Summary: Years ago, Peter realized he had a bigger responsibility than being Spider-Man. That being Spider-Man was endangering something even more important. So he locked Spider-Man away, and has tried to make as normal and as peaceful a life as he can with his wife and daughter. But life has a way of straying from what you plan for it to be. It also has a massive sense of irony.
1. Chapter 1-Nightmares

**Note: So, if any of you spider aficionados out there are unaware, Marvel is running a mini-series in the current wonderful psychotic jumble that is Secret Wars where Spider Man remains married to MJ and they have an adorable, probably-going-to-be-awesome daughter with spider powers. They're also inhabiting a reality that's dominated by a rather OP prick who makes his villainous debut by power-stealing and killing the X-Men and the Avengers (and a bunch of street heroes, like Punisher, Daredevil, and Moon Knight), thus superheroics for the Parker family are on the backburner for obvious reasons. So I thought to myself, "Suppose the Parker family existed in a more hero-hospitable reality." And thus, we have The Spectacular Spider-Dad.**

 **I do not own Spider Man. Please review, comment, or criticize constructively. Most of all, enjoy.**

The Spectacular Spider-Dad

Chapter 1

Nightmares in the Parker Residence

* * *

The symbiote was swarming off of Brock's broken body, whirling around him.

"Face it, Peter," He could hear the oily voice coming from every angle, "When it mattered, you were no better than us."

He sprung awake, the nightmarish twisting of that fateful night still fresh in his mind. He almost jerked at the hand that quickly grasped his shoulder.

"You okay?" Mary Jane asked him, concern painted across her face.

"Yeah, just a bad dream." Peter replied. He slid his hands across his face and took a few deep, calming breaths. "What are you doing up so early?" He asked, realizing the sun had yet to come up. His wife simply lifted a blinking, beeping device in response, her expression turning slightly sardonic as she did so. Peter groaned, his head falling to rest on his knees. "Whose turn is it this time?" He asked, defeat coloring his voice.

"I was thinking we could both tackle this one, make it a family bonding experience." Mary Jane said, throwing back the covers.

* * *

Peter opened the door to Annie's room, and as soon as he saw her bed was empty, turned his gaze upward. She was curled up, asleep, on the ceiling, hanging by one hand and her feet, her small form still enough to trip the motion sensors he and Mary Jane had decided to mount into the upper corners in an effort to be proactive about her power use. They didn't need the occasional guest or any neighbors across the way seeing their daughter drop down from the ceiling every other morning when she got frightened. Or when she got bored, which was also an oft-occurrence.

Peter turned to the wall and quickly climbed up the side, reaching with both arms when he got close to the ceiling to pull his daughter free. When he got her settled in his arms, he lightly dropped from the wall, landing smoothly on the floor. Despite going years without putting on the costume, he'd still managed to keep himself familiar with the motions of his powers. Mostly thanks to the little girl he was holding. He'd been spending the last few years having to keep up with a super-powered youngster.

Mary Jane reached over his arms and gave Annie's shoulder a shake. The young red-haired girl slowly opened her eyes, and glanced around. Once she realized that both her parents were in her room, and that it was still dark out, her expression morphed into one of guilt. Peter turned her in arms and set her down on the floor feet-first.

"I'm sorry," Annie immediately said, keeping her eyes rooted to the floor. "I know I'm not supposed to, but…" she looked up uncertainly at her parents, who hadn't said a word so far, just looked at her understandingly. "There was something there. Under my bed. It was that… that shadow-monster-thing. It was going to get me!" Her voice had risen steadily as she'd gone on, reaching a terrified pitch by the end of it, and ensuring that whatever scolding she'd receive would be severely de-fanged, if it happened at all. Her parents still had nightmares about that night; they couldn't even imagine how Annie would be dealing with it, beyond 'not very well.' Peter leaned down and set a hand on his daughter's shoulder.

"Annie," He began, doing his best to sound serious, but not so serious she'd think she was in trouble. "I know that that thing was scary, but it's not there. It's never been here once since, and it'll never, ever be back again."

"How can you know?" She asked him timidly.

"I just… I do, alright? Do you trust me?" Peter asked. Annie nodded. "Then believe me when I say that it's never going to come back, and if by some cosmic alignment of terribleness it manages to, _which it won't_ , I won't ever let it touch you."

He might have said more, but Annie crashed into him and wrapped him in a tight, desperate hug. Peter quickly returned it, and Mary Jane kneeled down to join in. They stayed that way for several minutes, before Annie made moves to pull out. Disentangling his arms, Peter laid a kiss on Annie's head. Mary Jane, however, had other ideas, and kept a light grip on her shoulders, turning her around to face her mother.

"Now," She said, tone indicating she was being quite serious, "We're laying down some new rules regarding powers in the house." She gave Annie a pointed look as the girl moaned disappointedly at the news. "If you get scared, if this happens again, you don't climb up and spend the night on your ceiling. At most, you stop in the middle of your wall, and you come down to our room, understand?" Annie nodded. "Now, you wouldn't be able to just sleep up on your ceiling anyways, because we'll know. We put up sensors in the corners so we'd know exactly when this sort of thing happens, but I think we can all agree that we'd much rather-"

"You put sensors in my room?" Annie cried indignantly.

 **So, yeah. This is a sort of re-write of the first few pages of issue 2, in which things happen roughly in the same fashion. Some things obviously change, in that Annie needing to hide her spider powers is far less imperative, because there's no power-stealing overlord who'll vivisect her (probably) to get his hands on her abilities. At the same time, I imagine in-retirement superheroes who had secret identities that remained mostly secret, and who have kids with powers, would want to keep their super-powers on the down-low even in a safer world for people with powers. Thus, the discussion (and even the existence) of rules involving the appropriate use of super-powers in the house. And the desire to make sure that few, if any people, find out about said super-powers.**

 **Further context for what's been going on in this more normal reality, and some super-hero action, will be coming, if you guys and girls want to see more of this.**


	2. Chapter 2-The New Old Routine

**So, continuing this, I'm not entirely sure how long this will run for, and I can't promise truly regular updates as my schedule could change drastically any day (such is the life of the job-seeking college student). I can say we'll be seeing a good deal of action, super-powered and otherwise, as time goes on. This particular chapter is still a bit more super-powered domesticity and world building, but family Spider-powered action is coming, I assure you.**

 **I do not own Spider-Man. Please review, comment, or criticize constructively. Most of all, enjoy.**

The Spectacular Spider-Dad

Chapter 2

Tribulations of Morning

* * *

Peter jerked the pan upwards with his wrist, tossing the still-warming batter into the air. It was only thanks to the pain tolerance that came with years of super-heroics that he didn't drop the pan immediately as some of the batter splashed out of the pan on re-entry and landed on his forearm. Setting the pan down, he quickly reached for the wet hand towel he kept hanging over the sink, specifically set for whenever he got anywhere near the stove or oven.

"I think you're supposed to wait before you do that, Daddy." Annie called, hanging off the ceiling by her hands.

"And I seem to recall you aren't supposed to be on the ceiling in the kitchen." He replied, wrapping the towel around his arm.

"But it's not from a nightmare. I'm practicing." Annie argued. She twisted up, setting her feet against the ceiling and letting her hands drop, standing completely upside-down.

"Are there windows?" Peter asked, turning around to give his daughter a stern look. Annie looked past the edge of the counter, the only separation between the kitchen and the living room.

"Yes." She admitted, reaching back for the ceiling with her hands.

"Then get down from there. You know the rules-"

"No powers where people might see." Annie finished for him dejectedly, relaxing her grip and dropping deftly to the floor. Peter reached down out with his free hand and gave her shoulder a sympathetic squeeze. As much as he didn't want her abilities exposed, he understood how hard it was to have to hide them.

* * *

A few slightly more successful flips and the release of one thankfully whole and unburnt banana pancake later, Peter's phone, set on the counter, beeped. A message, from Robbie at the Bugle: 'Punisher shot up bar in Bronx. Jonah wants photos ASAP.' with an address following. Peter sighed, and started running the numbers in his head.

"You all packed up, sweetie?" He asked Annie. Her face scrunched up in thought and she shrugged her shoulders in response. "Well, go double-check. I might have to leave a little early this morning." Annie took off for her room, and Mary Jane looked up from her laptop, browsing through her latest script.

"What's going on?" She asked. Peter tossed his phone to her and flicked his wrist again, tossing a slightly over-done pancake into the air. "You need to head out before us?" Mary Jane called as she threw his phone back. Peter swapped hands with inhuman speed, reaching behind his head to grab the phone while lifting the pan with his other hand to catch breakfast on the right side.

"I can make the time for breakfast, but I think I'll need to forgo the walk to school. If I remember Frank at all, the most interesting photos I'll be able to get out of this won't be someplace he's already cleared out, and if he's hitting the gangs in the Bronx…" Peter trailed off, sparing her the details. MJ nodded and returned to her script. Peter set his phone down and flipped open a news app, hoping to quick check what was being said of Frank Castle's latest one-man warzone. He didn't think it would be worth the time to stop, but just in case- A small editorial from the New York Bulletin caught his eye as he scrolled through the listings.

 _Spider-Gone: The History and Mystery of New York's Metahuman Underdog_.

Curiosity won out. Peter tapped on the link.

* * *

 _It's been six years, and New Yorkers are still wondering what exactly happened to one of the city's most controversial metahuman figures. Spider-Man, real name unknown, was a major presence in the city, and at times the world, for over a decade. Despite contentions from several local news sources and some city officials, the Daily Bugle most prevalent among them, that Spider-Man was little more than an unrestrained vigilante at best, an outright menace at worst, investigation into the man in the years following his disappearance paints a different picture. Sources within the NYPD who asked that their identities be withheld claim that the costumed wall-crawler maintained a highly favorable working relationship with police, and was instrumental in helping the late George Stacy bring down the super-powered crime lord Lonnie Lincoln, aka Tombstone, among other joint efforts for which New York's finest hold Spider-Man in high regard._

 _Evidence also exists tying Spider-Man to several operations conducted by the Avengers, both within the boundaries of the United States and far abroad. Footage and statements from reliable sources place him on the frontline of a fair share of the group's more dangerous outings, including a cosmic menace that threated to erase reality, the capture of a rampaging Hulk, and an attempt by the supervillain team known as the Sinister Six to hold the United Nations General Assembly hostage during a session in London._

 _The last known sighting of Spider-Man was nearly six years ago, during a mass break-out from Riker's Island. Spider-Man's apparently final days on the streets are surprisingly well-documented. After saving local television star Mary Jane Parker and her year-old daughter from the alien organism known as Venom, Spider-Man assisted all parties from the NYPD to SHIELD in the recapture of the super-powered escapees, after which he vanished without a trace._

 _Six years later, and we're all still wondering: what happened to Spider-Man, where did he go, and if he's still alive, what is he doing now?_

"DADDY!" Annie's cry shocked Peter out his absorption in the article, and he quickly saw the reason; the pancake had caught fire. Peter slid the towel off his arm and batted at the flames. He flipped the pan over, dumping the still-burning flapjack onto one of many small plates he'd set aside, then filled a glass with water and dumped it over the plate. The smoke detector started blaring, tripped by the smoke still rising from the pan, and as Peter leapt up to the ceiling to pull it out of place and remove the batteries, he pointed down at the severely-blackened pancake, intent on making a great sacrifice for the sake of his family.

"Dibs." He called down firmly.

* * *

 **Fun fact: those team-ups with the Avengers are all taken from actual Spider-Man/Avengers comic crossovers. Him having to capture the Hulk was his first shot at getting on the team way back when; the reality-erasing event involved Nebula from Guardians of the Galaxy (though I suppose Thanos getting the Infinity Gauntlet loaded with the Infinity Gems could also count in that regard, and Spidey did help out then, too), and the Sinister Six bit is slightly altered from it's original telling in the Ultimate Marvel series, where they tried to take over the White House (I changed it to the UN General Assembly to add to the international-adventures-with-the-Avengers angle).**

 **As far as that Punisher bit, it's what I assumed the natural progression of Peter's civilian job would be (sans Horizon Labs, of course) if he gave up being Spider-Man. He's lost his major 'in' because he can't take pictures of his own super-heroics, but he's spent enough time with other super-heroes and the local criminals/crime bosses that he can make good guesses as to where they're going to be based on what they've been up to, and he can still get photos of superheroes that no other photographer can manage because of that inside knowledge and his own super-powers.**

 **I actually didn't fully mean for this particular chapter to happen quite as it did but like I said above, world building is an important part of telling any story, and I also feel like super-powered domesticity is something fiction in general could stand to see more of. Any of you out there who've seen Ant Man, think of that last scene at the dinner table in the Lang house, where it's a fairly well-adjusted family just living with super-powered weirdness as a matter of course in their daily routine. Stuff like that is great, and we should see far more of it in my opinion.**

 **This whole bit with Peter making breakfast, with varying degrees of success, is itself somewhat pulled from another in-comic line; a great little exchange between him and Annie, where she asserts that banana pancakes make everything better.**


	3. Chapter 3-Reverting to Type

**Note: So, remember when I said there'd be Spider-powered action soon? This is the point where that kicks off. It'll also be longer than previous chapters to incorporate the more banal bits that remain key as well as the beginnings of super-powered action. And to make up for how long this chapter took to get up.**

 **I do not own Spider-Man. Please review, comment, or criticize constructively. Most of all, enjoy.**

* * *

The Spectacular Spider-Dad

Chapter 3

Reverting to Type (for Personal Reasons)

* * *

It was odd, Peter though to himself. One would normally think that retiring from the life of a part-time super-hero would make one's job safer. One would think. Peter had, in fact, thought likewise. Shifting to less self-focused photography, though still specializing in the more fantastic events of the city, he'd figured the time he'd spend in direct, potentially mortal danger would be down appreciably.

Either he was completely off in that assumption, or the Parker Luck was in full effect, because he was currently fleeing up an fire escape from armed thugs shooting haphazardly at him. Though he also supposed he had only himself to blame. He'd tried to predict The Punisher's next point of devastation, and he'd been off. He didn't know Frank as well as he thought he did, or Frank was running late, and while Peter had gotten some very good shots of an certainly illegal arms deal, criminals had apparently gotten much better at spotting people watching them in the last six years. Hence his fleeing up a fire escape with gun-toting goons in hot, violent pursuit.

He'd later reflect that he'd rarely been so glad to hear explosions and terrified screaming. A black, non-descript van had pulled up in front of the run-down warehouse where the arms deal had been going down, the back doors had opened and several grenades had come flying out, followed by a hail of bullets, and finally Frank Castle.

Peter tried to not power-jump his way to the top of the fire escape, and quickly turned around, refocusing his camera on the skull-shirted, rampaging vigilante, taking pictures as quickly and clearly as he could, the warehouse's lack of complete walls giving Peter some great angles on the rather terrible carnage playing out.

Peter had never really liked Frank, or the way he did things. He could understand why Frank chose to conduct his literal war on crime the way he did, more than ever now that he had MJ and Annie. But he still didn't like it, or Frank. Frank had actually tried to kill him the first time they'd met, mistaking him to be one of Wilson Fisk's flunkies. The next time he'd run into Frank, he'd just crushed a dirty cop's car in a car crusher. While said dirty cop was still inside it. Castle had remained utterly unrepentant in both cases, and thus the tone for their super-heroic working relationship had been set for years to come.

Peter took a few more pictures, then drew his phone out of his pocket and dialed 911. He hoped Annie and Mary Jane were having days that involved less mortal danger.

* * *

 _Captain America's shield is built out of a mixture of adamantium and vibranium, making it conventionally invulnerable and able to absorb and release kinetic vibrations. Captain America has commented that his shield always returns to his hand after he has thrown it because he can calculate the exact angles that will achieve the correct release of absorbed energy to send it along his desired path._

Annie leaned back from the display complete with a mock-up, and admitted that Captain America's shield, and his super smart brain, apparently, were actually pretty cool. Everything in the Avengers wing of the Hall of Science was pretty cool, from an analysis of the power source for Iron Man's suit, to an explanation of the molecular composition of The Vision's android body, to the technical design and history of Falcon's flight pack, to an detailed deconstruction of Wasp's shrinking suit, and how she could command wasps and ants.

Though in truth, Annie wasn't quite sure she liked the fact that the Avengers got their own wing in a museum. Sure, they were superheroes, but she also had a vague memory, and some stories from Mom that she probably shouldn't have overheard but couldn't help overhearing, about how when the shadow-monster had come after them, Mom had been screaming up at them from the street, and they'd just flown right on by. 'Apparently, they had more important things to do.' Mom had said.

Annie also may have been a little disappointed that there wasn't anything explaining how Thor's hammer worked. Or how any of the really cool stuff Thor could do worked. But she also supposed that Thor was a god. Gods could do things that science couldn't explain.

Annie stopped walking as she felt a strange buzzing in the back of her head.

Right before a man walked into her and sent her sprawling to the floor. He kept on moving and didn't even stop to help her up. Some of the other kids came crowding around her, followed quickly by one of the teachers. Felicity Hardy, a friend of Annie's and the daughter of some woman Dad and Mom had apparently known because Mom always looked annoyed and Dad always looked embarrassed whenever her name came up, reached a hand out, and Annie gratefully grabbed it. She cast an angry glare and stuck her tongue out at the man, who still hadn't even turned around. As she glared at him, she could see he was carrying a large bag, and was wearing what looked like doctor's clothes beneath his coat. That buzzing in her head was still there, faintly. She pulled her backpack back over her shoulders, and moved back to join the main group. The school day, and thus the field trip, was just about over.

The rest of the kids started lining up, or rather, the teachers and parents tried to get them into order. Annie, already in a line that was still forming, looked around. That buzzing was still bothering her, and she rubbed her head to try and soothe it. She noticed something as her rubbing proved useless. There was another person, a woman in doctor's clothes, standing by the entrance, with another large bag. She looked around, everywhere. There were at least five other people, not counting the jerk who'd run into her who had also made his way into the lobby, all standing in different places, all in doctor's clothes, all carrying large bags. The man who'd knocked her over had his phone out, typing something in before he stowed his phone in his coat pocket, and slid a surgical mask up over his mouth.

The buzzing had saturated her entire skull, had gotten painful. Annie gasped in pain and stopped just short of dropping to her knees, ignoring the again worried kids and teachers making a beeline for her as she remembered one of Dad's talks about powers, realized she knew what was happening. He'd told her about this; a sort of sixth sense for danger-

A series of shots rang out, followed by several screams, as Annie watched the man who'd run into her draw a large rifle from his bag. Turning her eyes fearfully, she watched as the woman by the entrance waved away an exiting couple, gun in hand, and started to slide chains through the door handles.

* * *

Robbie Roberts hung his phone up and quickly walked towards Jonah's office. Even through a door and probably bullet-proof glass at the least (Jonah had insisted on heightening the level of structural safety in the office a few years ago, after the Big Man of Crime had sent a hit squad to kill him and Ben Urich over an investigatory piece Jonah cleared for publishing), Jonah's angry tirades could still easily be heard by everybody in the office.

"I told you, Parker! Get pictures of Castle's latest crime scene! Not gallivant around following hunches that I don't even know how you have! You're a photographer! Your job is to take pictures! Leave the reporting and investigating to guys like Ned and Ben!"

Robbie couldn't hear Peter's response, but it must have been a good one, because Jonah somehow looked even more furious. Then Peter tossed a stack of photos on Jonah's desk, and the anger… it didn't quite evaporate, but it quickly became supplanted by Jonah's ingrained need for critical analysis. Robbie opened the door as Jonah nodded appreciatively at one picture.

"Jonah," He said, earning a light glare as he interrupted the man's train of thought. "Just got off with some street contacts. Reports are coming in that a bunch of armed men and women snuck into the Hall of Science, locked it down. If my sources are right, they have hostages." Jonah didn't waste a second.

"Get Leeds out there, we'll need someone on this, and… Parker?" Jonah and Robbie suddenly realized Peter wasn't in the room. "Parker?!" Jonah yelled. Robbie turned and saw what looked like the emergency exit door at the back of the office swing shut, as well as several astonished glances directed its way. Robbie took off, barreling through the door, and thought he heard the door to the roof slam shut, a few floors above him. He ran up, taking the steps in as many twos as he could manage, getting through the door to the roof a minute later.

"Peter?" Robbie called out, getting no answer. He looked around; the roof was empty. So where could…

Robbie's gaze became fixed on a figure in the distance, charging and leaping across the tops and sides of buildings nearly a block away. A figure that, even from this distance, looked a lot like Peter.

* * *

Peter rolled into the fall and came up sprinting, his breath catching in his chest, legs and arms burning. It had been six years since he'd done anything even remotely close to this, and even when he'd been active he'd never simply run and jumped his way across the rooftops of downtown New York before; he'd had his webs to get around on. He reached into his pocket, entering MJ's number from a combination of memory and habit before he'd even gotten it all the way up to his face.

"MJ! You-" He didn't even get to finish.

"It's all over the news." Peter could detect the concealed terror in her voice, just as he was sure she was doing the same to him. "I'm headed-"

"No, listen. Go back home, find the key. I'm already on the way." That gave her pause. Peter cleared three rooftops before she answered.

"You're sure?" He understood why she was asking. This would be a risk unlike any other.

"I'm sure. We'll deal with whatever happens from this once Annie's safe. But right now-"

"Get home, get the key. I'll leave it on the table for you, then I'm heading straight down there." She hung up, not even giving him the chance to protest. Peter started dialing the next number and realized he'd need a new phone afterwards once he finished the next call.

"You've reached the Life Model Decoy of-"

"Tony, it's Peter. I don't have time for your run-around. Remember that chest I asked you to hold onto for me? I'm going to need it back."

* * *

Annie hung in the right corner, listening to the angry knocking on the other side of the door. Her plan had worked out so far; now she needed to just not mess up.

After about half an hour, Annie had carefully broached the need for bathroom visits with one of the captors, and a round of assenting voices from the rest of her class convinced the crew that she had a point. She let other kids go first; she didn't want to seem too suspicious if, when, she reminded herself, when her plan worked. They'd set strict three minute time limits; any more and troublemakers would be forcibly dragged back into the lobby. Which was what Annie was counting on.

The door swung open and one of the crew came through, looking around angrily. Annie quickly and quietly crawled her way across the ceiling as the man started checking stalls. When she was behind him, Annie swung herself down, feet-first. Her sneakers connected solidly with the back of the man's head and sent him barreling through a stall door, smashing the door itself clean off its hinges. Annie let her fingers relax and she dropped from the ceiling, quickly sprinting into the ruined stall. The force of the goon's landing had shattered the upper portion of the toilet, and the floor was getting covered in water Annie didn't want to think too hard about. The goon flailed over, still lying on the caved-in door, and had just long enough to look utterly astonished before Annie drew back a fist and punched him in the face. Hard.

Another few punches and the man was out cold. Annie stepped back, feeling an enormous sense of accomplishment. Now she just had to…

She actually hadn't thought this far ahead.

* * *

Peter really needed to stretch his shoulders, loosen them up. The costume seemed… constricting in a way it had never been before, and it wasn't because Peter was any less fit than he'd been six years ago.

Problem was, he was almost afraid to make any noise. How he managed to sneak his way into the Hall of Science, he didn't know. But he had the element of surprise, and he wanted to take full advantage of it. He looked down from the ceiling at the mass of hostages, nearly fifty children among them, and half a dozen armed men and women, wearing doctor's scrubs and surgical masks, carrying very high-end guns. He thought he recognized the make, but he couldn't be sure without further, up-close inspection.

Peter did a quick headcount; he'd picked Annie up enough, occasionally made it to the school job fair, to know her classmates. She wasn't there.

He was about to start panicking, as silently as he could, when he heard a smashing sound a few rooms away. The crew beneath him all turned in the direction of the noise, and one of them started moving. Peter quickly crawled his way across the ceiling, trying to get above the moving one. He knew Annie; any chance she got to cut loose with her powers, she took, and she had inherited Peter's senses of heroism and responsibility along with his powers. She wouldn't just sit quietly and be a cooperative hostage, and Peter also knew, from some minor training on weekends, that she could hit hard. But, powers or not, Annie was also six years old, up against half-a-dozen well-armed men and women-

He hadn't felt the buzzing sensation so fiercely in so long, he'd almost forgotten what it meant. He started to relax his grip on the ceiling.

"Up there! There he is!" He heard one of the hostage-takers yell, and Peter let himself fall, a hail of bullets tearing through the section of ceiling where he'd been holding onto. He was just within range of the goon who'd been going to check on what Peter hoped was Annie. As the man turned around, Peter fired a line of webbing at him and yanked back, hard, as it connected with its target. Pulling the man clear off his feet, and Peter towards the man. Peter drew his legs back, then thrust them forward when the man got into range. The kick sent Peter flying backwards, and the man smashing into a wall. Peter reached for his left web shooter and gave the cartridge a twist, shifting what formula it would fire.

Peter continued his flight, back into the lobby, twisting in mid-air to position a fist for one of the thugs standing in the middle of the hostages while aiming with his left hand to fire two blasts of webbing which swept the other two off their feet and pinned them to the nearest walls. Peter had intentionally loaded up the webbing mixed to launch with greater force, made for exactly this sort of situation; when many armed bad guys had many innocent people at their questionable mercy and needed to be quickly and forcefully immobilized.

* * *

Annie crept out of the bathroom when she heard the yelling and gunfire. She peeked around the corner, keeping her feet firmly planted on the ground, lest one of her classmates or anyone else look back and see her head poking around the corner several feet off the floor, and could only watch in awe at what was happening in the lobby.

Spider-Man had just knocked the guy who'd run into her earlier halfway across the room. In mid-air. He flipped around impossibly to land on his feet, facing the other two bad guys (Well, guy and girl, Annie amended) and launched strings of webbing from his wrists. The webs latched onto their guns, and Spider-Man yanked back on the lines, tearing the rifles from their hands, and pulling the guy hard into the ticket checker stand, knocking it over and sending him dropping to the floor, wheezing.

Spider-Man leapt across the room, seizing the woman by her shirt and tossing her against a wall, which he proceeded to web her to, covering everything from the neck down.

The man whose gun Spider-Man had yanked away had gotten to his feet, and he was desperately sprinting towards it. Spider-Man launched another line of webbing at his feet and waited for the man to fall flat on his face as one foot remained glued to the floor. Another two blasts made sure his hands stayed where they were.

Annie was so caught up in watching the super-hero at work, she hadn't heard the bathroom door open, nor notice the rather angry armed man behind her. She didn't notice him until he wrapped an arm around her neck.

"Figures that you'd be the one." She heard him mutter to himself. "Told Vaughn a thousand times, the ones who ask for things always have plans. They're always trouble. You're just a double-whammy." He started walking forward, and she had no choice but to walk with him, his rifle held against her head.

He marched Annie out towards the lobby, and one of the teachers saw her before anyone else did. So of course, he also screamed. Everyone, even all the bad guys stuck in webbing, turned to see what he was screaming about.

"Alright, freak," The man holding her started, clearly addressing the super-hero in the room. Annie thought she saw his hands tighten into fists. "Here's what's going to happen. You're going get my crew out of whatever it is you wrapped them up in, you're going to leave the way you came, and you're going to tell those cops outside to get a bus with tinted windows down here within the hour. You also tell them that if you or them or anything else comes into this building, we'll start killing hostages, and I'm going to start with this-"

* * *

Hector Ayala was no stranger to police standoffs. He was a cop in New York City; armed stand-offs practically came with the territory. He was more used to banks, though, and he was also more used to having superheroes come in and clean up the crooks, super-powered or otherwise, before he and his could really do anything about it. This was a case where both of the things he was used to were not happening. He couldn't help but wonder why anyone would take hostages in the Hall of Science, of all places-

A body smashed through the chained front doors to the Hall, shattering the glass and knocking them off their hinges. Said body continued sailing through the air, the chained-shut doors taking little, if anything, off its momentum. It barreled through the lights on top of one of the patrols cars, parked over ten feet away, and finally stopped when it slammed against one of the HRT trucks, leaving an impressive dent in the side. As Hector and the other officers converged, they recognized the man from their scant viewing of security footage before the cameras had been cut; he was one of the hostage-takers, and he was, somehow, still alive.

A series of excited shouts drew Hector's attention back to the Hall of Science, and he looked just quick enough to see a red- and-blue figure leap through the doors. He followed it as it sailed over the park fired what looked like…

All Hector could do was stare and smile as Spider-Man swung off.

* * *

 **So, full confession; I've never been as stuck on a fight scene as I was on Spider-Man's hostage rescue fight. That fight bares all the blame for how long this chapter took, and is thus why it is so long, in apology to those readers and followers/favoriters I kept waiting.**

 **The Hall of Science is an actual museum in New York City, just so you all know; I just figured that, in a world with public super-powered figures, the science behind said figures would be disseminated and of course capitalized on. Thus, the explanatory Avengers wing. Hector Ayala is an actual Spider-Man character (I think he's from one of the more recent cartoons; I just haven't quite decided where Jean DeWolff is in the NYPD hierarchy of my little playground universe and thus wasn't sure if I should use her here).**

 **It's also worth noting that I do, in fact, have larger story plans beyond showing moments of Spider-Man and his super-powered daughter be super-powered domestically and occasionally heroically. This marks the entrance of said bigger story elements. We'll be seeing many more Marvel faces besides the ones from Spider-Man before the story is over, and we'll be diving into deeper themes. Just a heads-up to all of you.**


	4. Chapter 4-The Morning After

**Note: So, I've been somewhat distracted with getting ready for school and playing the crap out of Metal Gear Solid 5, which is why this one took so long. I'll also be going back to school quite soon, and thus will need a bit of time to figure out when I can write.**

 **I do not own Spider-Man. Please review, comment, or criticize constructively. Most of all, enjoy.**

* * *

Chapter 4

The Morning, Relatively Speaking, After the Night Before

Peter walked up to the coffee table in front of the rather small television in the living room, and started to set down breakfast for the two most important women in his life.

It had been a rather crazy couple of days. Jonah had been on him about not getting any pictures of the Spider-Menace's return, but had rather strangely acquiesced to Peter's assertion that he hadn't expected a six-year-no-show to show, and he had been worrying for his daughter's life at the time. He'd also put in a call to Tony and any other Avenger whose number he had before he destroyed his old phone (a necessity when calling up superheroes with anything but a burner), asking if they could get him in touch with someone at SHIELD. He'd snagged a rifle from the museum before he'd left, and realized upon close late-night inspection that it was remarkably similar to SHIELD designs he'd seen in his years walking the superhero beat. SHIELD designs were the only ones in the world that could be truly called proprietary technology, so needless to say he wanted answers.

He and the rest of the family had done their best to avoid the absolute speculative frenzy that the media had whipped itself into. Annie, for one, didn't need the extra stress. School had been cancelled for the last few days, on the ground that several classes of students and faculty had been held hostage by armed assailants and needed time to recuperate mentally. While Annie appeared to be taking things in stride, even if she'd received a proud scolding for trying to take on anyone carrying a rifle almost as long as she was tall, both Peter and Mary Jane could tell she was shaken nonetheless.

So, they decided to spend the weekend together, starting with a cartoon-filled family breakfast. Or, they would have, if someone hadn't knocked on the door.

Peter, sighing angrily, got up to check it. He looked through the peephole, and tried hard not to gape at who he saw on the other side. He slid the chain lock back and eased the door open.

"Hey Pete." Bearing his trademarked grin on the other side of the doorway was Phil Coulson.

* * *

"Someone's going to die," Nick Fury said, looking the rifle up and down, turning it over in his hands. "Want to know how I know?" Peter shrugged. "Because I'm going to kill them."

"So it is one of yours?" Peter asked, hoping for more clarification.

"Yeah. Prototypes are still getting put through their paces. Amazed no-one got hurt, heard those clowns got some rounds off."

"I made sure the only thing they ever got to shoot at was me," Peter leaned forward as Fury set the gun down on his desk. He was still a bit overwhelmed that he'd somehow earned as escort to SHIELD's New York headquarters, but he wasn't about to question luck finally working in his favor. "What I'm more interested in is how a bunch of goons who think taking hostages in a museum is a good idea got their hands on SHIELD hardware that isn't even in the field yet."

"If I knew the answer to that one, I'd be killing someone already." Fury sighed, sitting back down. "I don't suppose there's anything you can tell us that we won't find out ourselves?"

"Yeah, actually," Peter said, one of the many oddities of the situation jumping in his memory. "When they saw me, one of them shouted 'There he is!' They were expecting me, specifically. Even though-"

"You've been in retirement for six years, yeah." Peter couldn't help but detect a hint of scorn in Fury's tone. He could guess it was about the events of his last night in costume, but he wasn't about to press; everything with the Avengers had worked out in the end, and if Fury couldn't accept why he'd put his family first, that was Fury's problem. "We learn anything more, you'll know."

Peter reached his hand out, shaking Fury's when he reciprocated.

"Appreciate that, sir."

* * *

Peter winced as his ears popped as the elevator went up another dozen floors. The true areas of importance in more accessible SHIELD facilities were all buried deep underground.

"Uncle Phil?" Coulson asked, giving Peter a smirking glance. Peter sighed, remembering Annie's delighted yell when she'd spotted him.

"Well, we had to explain you somehow, and we couldn't exactly say 'He's a super-spy for SHIELD that your parents just know' now could we?" Peter defended.

"Only ever met her the one time though." Phil had popped in on the Parker house during Annie's first birthday celebration, and even as a toddler, the girl had taken an immediate shine to the agent.

"You're a memorable guy." Peter responded.

"Did you at least give me a good cover job?"

"You work for the government in DC, real important stuff at every hour of the day. Explains why you miss all the parties and whatnot." Phil nodded approvingly at the believability of the cover story; he'd worked jointly with actual people like that. "How're things with Audrey?"

* * *

"My stop." Phil said as the elevator dinged well below the main lobby. He gave Peter a firm handshake, then moved through the doors, still dozens upon dozens of feet below the surface of New York City. He moved through the halls until he reached one particular room. He set his hand against the print scanner and waited until the door unlocked. He walked into the room, and cast his gaze at the sole occupant, handcuffed to the table.

"So, biological readings have turned up quite a few false identities of yours," Phil said, adjusting the sleeves of his suit coat. "But nothing that anyone here, least of all me, is prepared to accept as your actual name." He walked up the table, pulled back the other chair, and sat down, folding his hands as he did so. "Now, I want you to understand something; you put a lot of people in danger, including the daughter of a good friend of mine, so when I tell you that one way or another, you'll answer my questions…" Phil gave his trademark smirk.

* * *

 **So, yeah, a bit shorter than the last one, but I couldn't figure out a way to transition to the next bit of story within the chapter without it being unbearably jarring. Also, to head off the questions; No, Annie doesn't know her dad used to be Spider Man specifically. She knows she got her powers from Peter, she knows he used to be a superhero, and she's unquestionably smart enough that she probably suspects the truth, but Peter and MJ haven't outright told her yet, hence the effectively enforced absence of fantastic surrogate-uncle Phil Coulson. And this isn't quite MCU-Phil; Peter just hasn't seen him in six years, and despite being a spy, Phil's also not a guy to show up unannounced to friends without reason. I will also admit that that scene with Nick Fury was pretty much lifted from an early issue of Astonishing X-Men, mostly because it's such a fantastic bit of hands-on-spy-boss attitude. That the guns came from SHIELD is going to be relevant later. Not the guns themselves, but the SHIELD connection. As for what I've got planned next, it'll be an lunch with Daredevil and a heroic relapse.**


	5. Chapter 5-Relapse

**Note: School and tech support scammers. Those are to blame for how long this chapter took. Anyways, we're going on a slight detour for the next chapter or so, though the larger plot will still be added to before we get back on it (with gusto).**

 **I do not own Spider Man. Please review, comment, or criticize constructively. Most of all, enjoy.**

* * *

The Spectacular Spider-Dad

Chapter 5

Relapse

* * *

Peter couldn't quite decide how he felt. He was torn between disbelief and disgust. Jonah had handed him a more banal assignment; photo duty of a big press event while Ned got down quotes and bits to make into a full-fledged article later. It was something they'd done more than a few times over the years, and they did it well together. What Peter took issue with was the subject of this particular event.

Wilson Fisk. About a year or three out of federal prison, finally back in the United States, and still putting out the same lies he'd always dressed up in different ways every time his sentence was up and he could make his way back to New York City. The only real difference was that Vanessa Fisk was strangely absent from his side.

"I recognize that, with my history, many of you will not trust me. Will not believe me." _Too right_ , Peter thought. "I have earned that distrust. I have spent years earning it, abusing the trust and people of this great city. Today, I stand before you all, repentant. Today, I hope to take the first step towards amends, to truly earn what I bought and squandered, and to do what I always wanted to. Build a better future."

Peter tuned him out at that point. Fisk went on, but Peter didn't care to listen.

* * *

Peter glared up at the red neon sign. Robbie had passed a note his way when he'd gotten back to the Bugle, saying a message had come in for him from the offices of Nelson and Murdock, some low-level-someone-or-other wanting to meet and talk to him about something they couldn't specify over the phone. Peter could guess who they were and what they wanted to talk about, he just didn't want to believe it. Partly because he was still fuming from Fisk's press conference and he didn't want to pop a blood vessel somewhere important.

He pushed the door open and was assaulted by the smell of smoke and the blaring of hard rock. Squinting through the haze that was half-smoke, half-dust, and half-musk, his worst fears were confirmed when he saw the white cane propped up against the side of a booth at the far back corner. He stalked his way over, and made sure to give Matt Murdock a death glare as he sat down.

"I really didn't think we'd need to have this talk again, Matt." Peter said.

"What talk?" Matt asked innocently.

"The one we had when I was still in high school. The one about boundaries, personal space, and your truly appalling lack of respect for both."

"Peter, I-"

"No, wait. My seven-year-old daughter was held hostage by armed men last week, and things I tried very hard to keep out of my family's lives are now intruding back in." Peter leaned in; he knew Matt could hear him perfectly fine, but he didn't want Matt playing coy either. "This is my life. This is Annie's life. They're normal. They're safe. And they're going to stay that way." Matt held up his hands in a gesture that was simultaneously surrender and understanding.

"So I guess that answers the immediate question of whether or not you getting back on the streets is a one-time deal." Matt said.

"Too right it does." Peter shot back. Then he sighed, and set his head in his hands. "Sorry, it's just-"

"Fisk's conference, I know. Foggy was swearing a blue streak up and down the office." Matt took a sip of his drink, and a waitress came over to set down a glass of water for Peter. "According to some of my contacts, Fisk has already gotten in touch with some of the local color."

"You know, just once, I'd like to actually be disappointed or surprised to hear that." Peter offered. "Aleksei actually managed it, way back when. True and honest turn-around. Why can't more of them be like him?"

"Didn't he backswing after a few months?" Matt asked rhetorically, one eyebrow raised over the frame of his glasses.

"It wasn't like...that's not the point." Peter said darkly. The villainous relapse of Aleksei Sytsevich was one of the moments in his career he was truly not proud of. One of the ones he considered a truly personal failure.

"Fisk has gotten in contact with a ring of human traffickers, formerly based out of Chechnya, though the operation itself remains international from what I was told. One of their key market specializations is children and young teens-"

"Matt-" Peter tried to cut in.

"You know how many parents in this city alone would kill to be able to protect their children like you can for Annie?" Matt leaned in. "That's not even considering that at least half of the Avengers would take a call from you or Mary Jane-" Peter slapped his hands on the table and stopped just short of leaping to his feet.

"We're not having this conversation." He said angrily. "You know what happens when you go out there and put yourself in the crosshairs. Anyone and everyone you know is put in them too. And I'm not doing that to MJ and Annie, not again." Peter sat himself down, a reached to get a napkin to mop up some of the water he'd spilled.

Matt sighed, and drained his glass. He reached for his cane, and slid out of the booth.

"Danny called me a few days ago. We've all been calling each other and talking, reminiscing, wondering what's going to happen on your front. He mentioned something I never heard. Really stuck with me. It was when they recruited you to help with training Hope. According to Danny, she was practically spellbound after your first big speech on power and responsibility." Matt gave Peter what Peter knew to be a disappointed glare. "I guess I was just hoping that man was still around."

* * *

Peter sat in the back of a cab, which was sitting at a red light, as the sun set and the streetlights began to flicker on, Matt's words still ringing in his ears. He turned his head, gazing out the window without focusing, when something caught his eye.

An old man walking alone down the street, nearing an alleyway. As the man reached it, he turned into it and began making his way down. The light down the middle of the alley was flickering, half-broken, but the outlines of several men striding toward the old man with clearly ill intent.

Peter was about to react on instinct, instinct he'd spent six years repressing. His mouth was opening to call out to the cabbie, and his hand was reaching for his wallet.

The light shifted to green and the cab sped up the street. Peter could just make out the old man sprinting out of the alleyway, who kept sprinting without pursuit.

* * *

He'd made up an excuse to not come to bed. Told Mary Jane he had to check over some of the photos he'd taken from the press conference. What he was actually doing was sitting before a large, locked chest, desperately contemplating, remembering.

After a few more minutes, he leaned forward and slid the key into the lock, slipping the lock off and lifting the lid, revealing the red and blue suit within.

* * *

Matt Murdock kneeled in his uniform on his usual rooftop. Waiting. Waiting for-

The sound of material stretching and pulling reached his ears from two blocks away, and he smiled to himself. He stood when he heard the impact of boots on the edge of the rooftop.

"Not a word." He heard Peter say shortly. "This is a one-time thing. We shut down this ring, you find evidence on Fisk, I only work night hours."

"Fair enough."

* * *

Matt slammed the guard's face into the wall, and reached out to the people behind him. It was a rather astonishing variety, captives of all races, ages, and genders. He could hear gunfire and shouting in a mix of Russian and Chechen. Turning his head, he saw one of the crew stumbling out of the adjacent hallway, then watched a small blast of webbing pin his hand to the wall. A series of thuds and pained grunts followed, and Peter was walking around the corner a few seconds later.

"All right, everyone's accounted for." He called down. Matt saw the man stuck to the wall tear his hand free and charge from behind. He was beginning to call out when Peter spun. Not quite fast enough, as a knife whirled and Peter let out a cry of pain. Matt hurled one of his clubs, knocking the knife clean out of the man's hand. Peter swung a punch that sent the goon smashing into the wall behind him.

"You're out of practice." Matt called down the hallway.

"I'm aware." Peter yelled back angrily, hissing in pain. He got a better look at the people Matt was leading down the hallway, his gaze fixing on the younger captives, then turned and delivered a vicious kick to the goon's head. Matt saw a tooth bounce off the wall, then Peter turned and stalked back down the way he came.

* * *

Peter slid the window open, doing his best not to hiss in pain from the still-unclosed cuts on his arm and side. He'd sprayed some webbing over them, but he'd learned early on in his career that webbing was best not kept over open wounds for very long. He climbed through the window to the apartment as quietly as he could, and reached to pull the webbing off. Now he just needed to remember where they kept the-

"Long night checking photos?" Mary Jane's voice rang out behind him and the light in the corner switched on. She was sitting in the chair next to the lamp, arms crossed, looking thoroughly unamused. For almost a minute the two of them simply stayed that way, MJ glaring, Peter doing his best not to look like a child caught misbehaving. "Why?" Mary Jane finally asked.

"I talked with Matt-" Peter began.

"I'm gonna kill him." MJ said with complete seriousness.

"Please don't. All he did was remind me of things I…" Peter sighed and pulled a chair from the kitchen table, hissing as he sat down and forgot to watch how he placed his arm. Mary Jane was somehow instantly at his side, pulling the webbing away carefully so as not let the wounds run freely again. "What is it?" She asked.

"Fisk has apparently already gotten into bed with some human traffickers. They specialize in kids." She stopped at that, and gave him a look that was half fury, half heart-bursting pride over him.

"Is this going to be a regular nightly activity now?" She asked.

"I told Matt it was just until we break this ring down, and he finds evidence on Fisk. But…" He didn't go on. They both knew what this meant.

Mary Jane looked up at him again, a sad but still proud smile on her face.

"Well, you wouldn't be the idiot I fell in love with otherwise." She kissed him, then moved to the counter, opening the drawer that held the first aid kit-

The lights flicked on, and Annie, clutching a empty water glass and rubbing her eyes, stumbled into the room. As she adjusted to the light, her eyes widened at the sight before her. Her expression slowly morphed into one of supreme satisfaction as she processed the appearance of her parents.

"I knew it." She declared proudly, taking a moment to pump her fist victoriously.

* * *

 **So, in case it still wasn't clear enough, the history of the Marvel Universe in this story is basically a mash-up of everything that's ever happened in any universe I can remember or research that is also a great Spider Man moment. The whole boundaries argument between Peter and Matt is an Ultimate Marvel Knights reference, while the whole bit with Aleksei Sytsevich (aka Rhino) references two particular issues of The Gauntlet arc of Amazing Spiderman that focused on a reformed-and-retired Rhino dealing with a crazy successor, and Spidey's failure to stop him before the new Rhino wrecks the old Rhino's peaceful, non-supervillain life enough that supervillainy is the only recourse left to him (it's tragic and fantastic, basically). The bit about Iron Fist and Hope Summers is also a great moment from New Avengers that really just kind of says everything that needs to be said about what a stand-up guy Spider Man ultimately is (and why, after the future of the mutant race has learned how to kick ass from some of the best ass-kickers in the Marvel Universe, they call in Spider Man to give her a crash course in heroism), thus why Daredevil pulls it out to try and get Peter back in the superhero game. If I'm being totally honest, even the old man in near danger is a reference, to the first time Peter gave up being Spider Man. It was an old man in danger then that got him back him in the game, too.**

 **Yeah, remember that chest Peter called Tony about in chapter 3? That's the chest in question here. Peter didn't want to have to fight the temptation to suit up every day, so he locked up his gear and sent it to his Avengers buddies. Same principle as clearing out the house of junk food when you're going on a diet (or anything analogous to that); if it's not there, you won't be tempted.**

 **Also, Kingpin is going to be somewhat important. Not super important, but his operation has some relevance to the overall plot, and he and Spidey will have words within the next chapter. And I can tell you right now, they won't be the words you're thinking of.**


	6. Chapter 6-A Talk

**Note: So, this whole chapter here was totally unplanned, but it popped into my head and I knew the instant it did that I had to do it. I do not own Spider-Man. Please review, comment, or criticize constructively. Most of all, enjoy.**

* * *

The Spectacular Spider-Dad

Chapter 6

A Talk

* * *

Mary Jane plopped herself in one of the folding chairs, reaching to take a swig of water before the next take started, when her phone went off. She dug it out of her purse and saw, somewhat worriedly, that it was the office at Annie's school calling.

"Hello?" She answered. "This is she…Annie did WHAT?" She turned in her seat, motioning towards the director, point at her phone and mouthing urgent nonsense. He gave her a nod and a thumbs up. "I'll be right down."

* * *

She opened the door to the principal's office; Annie was seated in a row of chairs on one end of the room, somehow looking chastised and defiant at the same time, while a boy sporting an enormous black eye and a cut across his cheek sat across from her, an angry-looking parent sitting with him. Mary Jane also noticed that another girl was sitting next to Annie, looking nervous.

"Thank you for coming in, Mrs. Parker."

* * *

"Okay, what really happened?" Mary Jane asked, directing her gaze at the rear-view mirror so Annie, buckled in the back, could see her Serious-Mom-Eyes. "Your principal and the others may have bought that line about you just stopping a bully, but we had that exact discussion three years ago, and we haven't had another incident like this since then. So what did that boy really do that set you off?" Annie shifted uncomfortably in the back seat.

"Well, it was partly that Tommy's a big jerky jerkface and likes pushing people down… and hitting them… then laughing… but that's not all of it!" She cried, seeing the Eyes return their focus to her as traffic slowed. "Beth was talking about… about Dad, how he saved us all at the museum. Tommy said that Dad's just some bad guy who acts like he's good, Beth yelled that he was stupid and didn't know anything, then he knocked her over, started calling her and Dad names, hit her a few times. I didn't mean to hit him that hard, I just… I wanted to do something." She was staring holes into the car floor by the time she was done. Mary Jane didn't know whether she wanted to ground Annie or give her the longest, proudest hug she'd ever had.

"See, this, right here, is why Dad and I didn't want you to know about, well, Dad. At least until you were a little older." Mary Jane finally sighed out.

They drove home in silence after that.

* * *

"None of that stuff is true, right?" Annie finally asked as she went through the door of the Parker residence.

"What stuff?" Mary Jane asked, turning to lock the door behind her.

"The stuff Tommy was saying about Dad. He said that the paper Dad works for has always said he's a bad guy, but that's not true, is it?"

"No, Dad's boss just doesn't like his other job." Mary Jane made a face at the thought of J. Jonah Jameson. To be fair, the man made sure a great many stories that other papers would too scared or too paid off to run made it to print and into the public eye. But his relentless, senseless hounding and smearing of her husband had never sat well with her, even when Peter hadn't been her husband, even when she'd had no idea he was a superhero in his spare, and often un-spare, time.

"Why?" Mary Jane turned and got a slight shock; Annie was hanging from the ceiling of the kitchen, grabbing a glass from the higher shelves. Though she quickly dropped down and looked suitably contrite at her mother's pointed glare

"I've never heard the reason from the man myself, and if he's ever told your Dad, he didn't carry it across the way. From what he has told me, I think his boss just doesn't like superheroes. He got into a big argument with Captain America once." She could only smile and nod at Annie's look of stunned disbelief. Annie just looked lost in thought, then started fiddling with her glass.

"So, Dad was a superhero?" She finally asked it plainly.

"Yeah," Mary Jane opened up the fridge and pulled out a carton of juice. "One of the best." Annie took the carton with a mumble of thanks and poured herself a glass. She took a big gulp before she continued.

"Why'd he stop?" She asked, wiping at her mouth her arm.

"That's a question you're going to have to ask him." Mary Jane smiled at the disappointed pout that took over Annie's face.

"Was it because he lost?" She asked. "Did some big bad guy beat him, and that's why he had to stop?" That gave her pause.

"No. He never lost, sweetie." She finally said, and knew the lie was worth it when Annie's face blossomed into an excited smile.

"Really? Not ever?"

Unbidden, her mind flashed through more than a decade of memories, the tough ones that she'd seen or that Peter had told her about afterwards. The bad times. Gwen and George Stacy. Harry Osborn, who'd somehow managed to die horribly twice, each time years apart. Curt and Billy Connors. Oksana Sytsevich. The first (And far from the last) time Peter had given up the suit. So many other moments, where he'd come through her window at the dead of night, middle of the day, whenever something truly terrible had happened, and all but collapse on her floor from wounds and from guilt he didn't need to carry even half as long as he did.

"Not ever." She gave Annie a sad smile and pulled her into a hug. Annie looked a bit perplexed, but didn't fight it. After almost a minute, they broke apart. "So, now that we've exhausted all age-appropriate topics on Dad, we need to discuss your punishment."

"My what?" Annie very nearly dropped her glass. "But MOM-"

"No buts."

* * *

 **A quick and dirty moment, again inspired by similar events and a talk from Renew Your Vows. Some of the events MJ remembers are obvious (the Stacys need no introduction), but others might be a little more obscure. Harry Osborn is a two-pronged reference, one to his first major death as the Green Goblin where he very nearly killed himself, Peter, MJ, and his son before coming to his senses and sacrificing himself to save them. The second… I can't talk about it. For…** **reasons. Yeah. Reasons. Unimportant reasons. Oksana Sytsevich is another reference to Rhino in the Gauntlet; the Connors' will take some explaining. One of the first Spider-Man stories I ever read concerned the Lizard and his plan to fully revert himself back to being human. Admittedly, he wasn't in total control of himself at the best of times, he was using technology that was either rigged to explode or just dangerous to him personally (honestly don't remember which), and his plan needed genetic samples from his son, which he took in a rather dangerous, villain-y fashion. The process ended up working, and Peter got to epically lift an entire collapsed train stop off of himself (Lizard decided the best way to keep Spider-Man from interfering was to drop a sewer tunnel on him), but it's also great fodder for tragedy because there are so many points where it can all go horribly, horribly wrong. So in this particular timeline/universe, things went wrong, and it becomes another notch on the Belt of Superheroic Failures. Because I'm secretly evil and tragedy-loving and sadistic like that *** **maniacal laugh** **as I sit down on my throne in my evil lair***


	7. Chapter 7-Assumptions

**Note: So, this is lead-up. Pure, unadulterated lead-up. Lead-up to the words that hopefully none of you will expect.**

 **Anyway. I do not own Spider-Man. Please review, comment, or criticize. Most of all, enjoy.**

* * *

The Spectacular Spider-Dad

Chapter 7

Assumptions

* * *

Peter crouched on the edge of the rooftop, looking at the very run-down building across the street.

"So, how do you want handle this?" He asked, turning to Matt. Matt had his helmet off, head cocked to one side, eyes shut, nostrils wide open.

"Most of them are all inside two rooms deep in the building," Matt said, eyes opening. "Maybe two guards by the back entrance, we-" He stopped, straightening and looking down either side of the road. Peter followed his gaze. Police cars and dark vans were streaming up on both sides. Within seconds, the building was surrounded by cars; an equal mix of cops and goons kicking in the doors and holding a perimeter outside.

"Well, this all looks very legal and wholesome and not in any way illicit." Peter snarked as gunshots rang out from within the building. Cops and goons began exiting a few minutes later, trailing Chechens and their captives. "Standard Dramatic Entrance Protocol?" Peter asked.

* * *

Sergeant Gates was siting in his car, keeping an eye on a rather unorthodox operation, when a large red metal stick plowed through his windshield. Getting out in a hurry and trying to scream for calm over the various screams of other people, he had a great view as Daredevil dropped down from the roof of the building he was helping raid and land on the roof of the car across from him. His shouts went unheard, and half the cops and non-affiliates there were about to react on instinct when a series of wet blasting sounds rang out and suddenly every man and woman holding a gun found it tearing out of their hands and sticking to the ground. Gates tried to suppress a groan of anguish as Spider-Man dropped down on top of his car.

"Now, I know exactly what this looks like," Gates began to say, "And, I swear, hand to God," He crossed one hand over his chest and held the other up, "It ain't what you two are thinking."

One of the men of questionable repute, Gates recalled his name was MacReady, old associate of the Silveretti family before Fisk bought him off, came striding out of the building, holding a…

"What the hell is that?" Gates demanded.

"Building clear?" MacReady asked.

"Yes, but-"

"You're gonna want to step back then." MacReady pressed a lever in on the device he was holding. Seconds later, the building exploded floor by floor. Gates reached to cover his face with his hands in disbelief, then turned to Daredevil. "Just knock me out, please. I'd really prefer just waking up with a head injury and explaining things to people besides you from there."

* * *

Peter slid down onto the park bench and tried his best to look casual. The blocked-number text had asked him to meet, and while he was fairly certain he knew who it was, he couldn't help but be nervous. Especially since he was back in the game, however temporarily, he tried to tell himself. He heard someone sit down on the bench behind him.

"Don't turn around, just keep looking ahead." Phil told him from the other bench as he pulled a newspaper out of his bag and took a sip of the coffee he was carrying.

"Is the spy-run-around really necessary?" Peter asked.

"Paranoia comes with the job, but that's not all of it." Phil sighed. "Fury said you'd be kept informed, I'm here to keep you informed. Honestly, even if you weren't supposed to be kept informed, I'd be here anyway."

"I appreciate that, Phil." They sat there for a minute, basking in the mutual respect and friendship. "So, what you guys find?"

"That museum job was a bunch of guns-for-hire, paid quite well in cash funneled through about six different shell companies before it reached the same continent as their bank accounts." Phil took another sip. "We traced as much of the money as we could, lead us to a Sammy Sikes. Works for Wilson Fisk." Phil had expected further questions, but only got silence. "Peter?" He broke paranoia-protocol and turned in his seat. To find an empty bench.

"How'd he do that?" Phil asked himself. "I'm the secret agent super-spy. That's my thing. He shouldn't be able to do my thing to me."

* * *

"This wasn't what we settled on, Fisk." Wilson Fisk turned from his wide-windowed view of the city and gazed sardonically at Captain Jean DeWolff.

"I believe what we settled on was an earnest co-operation, Captain. As far as I can tell-"

"Save it. When you came to me with this scheme of yours, I only agreed because I assumed you'd show some restraint." DeWolff looked positively livid. "Blowing up a building is rather the opposite of that. We already had the men responsible in custody, so why'd you go and-"

"Perhaps it's because I place slightly less faith in the justice system than you do, Captain. How many years did it take for me to finally be prosecuted?" Fisk let the question hang. "Shows of force are going to be necessary for some enterprises, especially if we intend to continue in this manner. In any case -"

Fisk stopped, and DeWolff turned, at the sounds of commotion outside his office door. Grunts of pain and the occasional gunshot. A few seconds later, a man came crashing through the large wooden double-doors, breaking them off their hinges. Spider-Man, dragging Wesley by his tie, stepped through the shattered doorway and fixed Fisk with an obvious death glare, and DeWolff with one of disappointment. The costumed man dropped Wesley to the floor, and started walking slowly towards Fisk's desk.

"Whatever it is you think you're here about, I can assure you, it's not-"

"Shut up." Fisk could almost feel the temperature in the room drop at those words, at the tone the normally jovial superhero used. "How'd you know?"

"Know wha-" Fisk didn't get the chance to finish. In a flash, a red-and-blue leg slammed into his desk, and suddenly he was being pushed backwards by his _flying_ desk into the window so hard, the industrial-strength glass cracked. A fist punched straight through a few inches of hardened mahogany, then tore the whole desk in two.

"I'm not in the mood for coy, Fisk. How'd. You. Know?" Fisk truly couldn't help the chill running down his spine, hearing such dangerous intent coming from this particular man.

"I told you, I don't-" Hands seized his throat. Arms, stronger than he'd ever remembered them being, lifted him clean off his feet and slammed him against the window, lengthening the cracks. Fisk grabbed at the arms, the hands, tried to pry them loose, and found… he couldn't. He had a moment to reflect, with astonishment and a little terror, that in all the years he and the man before him had been fighting, one of them had always been holding back. Considerably so, it seemed. Then the fingers around his neck began to tighten. Began to choke him.

* * *

 **So, justifiably angry Peter cliffhanger. Also, there's a reason I brought Fisk back, and there's a reason DeWolff is working with him. And much like the words Fisk and Peter will be having next chapter, the project they're tackling together (and the underlying reason Fisk is back in New York) also isn't what you probably think it is.**


	8. Chapter 8- The Lengths of Fathers

**Note: Since there was some confusion as why Peter was so nettled at the end of the last chapter, here's an up-front explanation; his chat with Phil concerned the museum incident in Chapter 3. Y'know, the one he suspects was a pseudo-smokescreen meant to target him and Annie specifically, and him especially as Spider-Man. Phil told him they traced the money paid to those involved back to a man who works for Kingpin, ergo, Kingpin, in Peter's mind, at the very least suspects who he really is and suspects that Annie is Spider-Man's kid. Not an ideal situation in terms of family safety, as far as Peter is concerned, and he takes the safety of his family very seriously. This chapter is also a little longer partly because I don't want to break it up, partly to make up for the length between updates (school's been crazy, and it'll likely just get crazier. Because that's what school does).**

 **I do not own Spider-Man. Please review, comment, or criticize constructively. Most of all, enjoy.**

* * *

The Spectacular Spider-Dad

Chapter 8

The Lengths of Fathers

* * *

Peter tightened his grip. He didn't go too tight. Didn't want to run the risk of killing Fisk outright. Not yet, anyway. He needed to know how much Fisk knew, and what he'd planned on doing with what he knew. Then he would-

His Spider Sense tingled, and he turned back to the door, keeping a hand holding Fisk up. Several suited goons, many carrying rifles, were running down the hall towards the office. Peter raised his empty hand and clenched it into a fist. He'd come loaded for bear this time, packed a few things he'd intentionally retired from the gadget line-up in his hero years.

A small metal spear shot out of the top of his web shooter and barreled into the lead goon's arm. He screamed, dropped his rifle, and quickly caused a pile-up of henchmen as he stopped in total shock and everyone else ran into him. Peter could almost feel everyone's eyes widen at the sight. He'd retired that particular little number because it had been a bit too brutal for his tastes, but as he'd been learning over the last seven years, being a father and husband had shifted what he was willing to do. In this particular case, he'd decided he was willing to take a bit of a page from Frank Castle's book and… Oh, God, he was taking a page from Frank Castle's book-

His Spider Sense went off again as he registered the sound of a gun slide being cranked. Jean DeWolff, surprisingly carrying her service weapon, an oddity if she was meeting in person with Fisk, had it out and was fixing him with a sorry glare.

"Listen, I don't know what's got you so angry, but you have to believe me on this. What's going on here is not what you think, and I can't imagine you've changed enough in the last six years that you wouldn't hate yourself if you took this too far and learned everything afterwards." She tossed the gun across the room. "I'm asking you to let him go. For your own sake."

* * *

Wilson Fisk was honestly surprised when the near-death-grip on his throat lessened, and he dropped to the floor of his office, gasping for air. He took a moment to give DeWolff a nod of thanks before getting to his feet.

"Captain, if you'll excuse us. It seems our mutual associate needs to speak to me." Fisk started towards the stairs leading to roof.

"Something wrong with your office?" Spider-Man asked, still speaking in a tone nobody in the room was at all familiar or comfortable with.

"I can only imagine that this discussion of ours will be touching on sensitive topics, and I don't think we've yet found all the new bugs in my office."

* * *

"How much more do you know?" Peter asked without preamble once all the goons had been sent off the rooftop. It was a very nice rooftop, to be sure. A nice little garden ringing the edges with a tree and bench at one far end, a pergola at the opposite end that had seen many a defensive broadcast speech, most of which were followed by Fisk fleeing to countries without extradition treaties, or tiny international territories he owned outright.

"Know about what?" Fisk asked in reply, looking honestly befuddled.

"Don't give me the runaround, Fisk. I'm not in the mood." Peter could see something he didn't see that often in Fisk's eyes. Genuine worry, actual fear. If he was being honest, Peter understood. He was almost starting to scare himself. Brock had been something of an in-the-moment choice, done because he'd known it would only go on and on if he didn't end it permanently, and he'd had all the tools on hand to do so. This, deliberate pursuit, threats… the more he thought about it, the more uncertain he became. Uncertain if he wanted to take things to this level, to make this the norm. "The Hall of Science takeover. SHIELD followed the money trail back to one of your men. So I need to know how much you really know about me, and what you plan on doing with what you know."

"You're talking about the… You're saying that those men were paid with MY money? Who paid-"

"Seriously getting sick of the act, Fisk. Sammy Sikes, moved a lot of your cash through a lot of shell companies so it'd be harder to trace back to-" Peter stopped as Fisk turned and whipped his phone out, hurriedly flipping and tapping through it.

"Wesley? Spider-Man just gave us the identity of our little financial leak. Send a team to get Sikes, bring him here, find out who he's working for." Fisk stowed his phone and looked back, gratefully, at Peter. "We'd been noticing discrepancies in our accounts for weeks, but we couldn't trace it to anyone."

"So," Peter had to stop. To process what was apparently happening. "So, you're saying you actually had no idea that the whole thing was funded by one of your men?"

"Not in the slightest. Rest assured, he'll be questioned at length, and I'm sure we can find ways to keep you appraised of what he says." Fisk's expression became more serious. "I should mention that I was intrigued by your sudden reappearance, and some research into those involved has led me to certain… theories. Nothing I can prove outright, but if I were you, I'd start being more publically visible, doing what you used to do every day, to draw attention away from what brought you back."

Peter walked up to Fisk, looked him up and down, then began moving around him, examining him from every angle, even going up the side of the tree to get an overhead view. He tentatively reached out and poked Fisk's head.

"You're not, I don't know… some sort of pod-person-Fisk, or like, Fisk from an alternate reality who got stranded here and went Highlander on the local Fisk, are you?" Peter asked with total seriousness. "I mean, I can't imagine you'd tell me if you were, but pod-people tend to react negatively if you say you're onto them, so I figured it was worth just asking."

"What are you even-" Fisk began, looking and sounding thoroughly perplexed.

"Well, you're offering to be helpful and giving me concerned advice, you don't know everything that's going on in your operation, Vanessa isn't with you, you somehow managed to corrupt one of the straightest-arrow-cops in all of New York City," Peter's expression visibly darkened through his mask. "And to be honest, if there hadn't been the apparent mix-up with the whole 'bankrolled the Hall of Science job', that's the other thing I'd be here about." Fisk's expression shifted to one that was half-satisfaction, half-introspection. He turned and walked up to the railing set over the slanted roof.

"I hated my father." He said simply.

* * *

"Ohhhhh… kay?" Peter said, utterly incapable of connecting the dots, because the dots of topics were so far apart they were at opposite ends of the galaxy. And from his brief but highly involved cosmic adventures, he knew exactly what that difference in location looked like.

"I realized that even as child, I hated him. A lot of my fear of him then was just a part of the hate I couldn't recognize. And now, even with decades of time, I still hate him. I hate him anew every day. I'll see something or remember something that reminds me of him, and that hatred will reignite itself in me." Fisk sighed, spent several seconds gazing at his hands, then went on. "Recent events have forced me to… evaluate myself, and I came away with a terrible realization. That I was, that I am very much like my father. I am tightly linked with crime. I refuse to acknowledge that link, however obvious it might be to everyone. I am, deep down, a fearful man. And I bury that fear until it becomes rage."

Fisk turned to Peter, looking him dead in the eyes. "I am my father's son. And I know what it is to hate your father, with every part of yourself. And I will not risk being the man my father made me, not when I know the damage that kind of man can wreak." Peter's head was spinning. If Fisk was telling him what he thought Fisk was telling him… no wonder he wanted to talk somewhere he knew there weren't listening devices. "Vanessa is pregnant, three months in now. Probably the only time she's agreed with me when I've asked her to remain behind for her own safety."

"Well, congratulations… I guess?" Peter really wasn't sure how to handle this sort of news. At least not when it came from Wilson Fisk. "But, what does that have to do with this whole thing with DeWolf and the Chechens?"

"You heard my press conference, didn't you?" If Peter's head hadn't still been spinning from the thought of Wilson Fisk being a father, the implied knowledge of that question would've set him off. "I want to make this city better. Safer, wealthier… I want to make it a place my child can look at with pride. So I've decided to put my years of work and resources to good use. Ferreting out everyone I can draw in before the rest realize something's wrong, then pointing everyone I can to ones who are still left."

"So, it's a sting operation. Just on steroids." Fisk sighed.

"If that's how you want to think about it, that interpretation works well enough."

"Why'd you go nuclear on the Chechens, though? Seemed a little over the top if you're just luring in and pointing out all your former partners and rivals."

"Consider it the concerned perspective of a soon-to-be-father. I'm surprised you of all people are asking that question." Peter balked at that, and the suspicion, the distrust, the protective desire, finally came back full-force and overrode the last few minutes of dumbfounded astonishment that Wilson Fisk, of all people, had discovered virtue by virtue of his impending parenthood.

"You're really pushing your luck with comments like that, Fisk." He said darkly, dropping from the tree and moving closer. Fisk chuckled darkly to himself. "What's so funny?"

"There was a time when another man in a suit was in my tower. Had his hands around Vanessa's neck. And you, not even out of high school if I remember correctly, talked him down by explaining the difference between men like the two of you and men like me. Even brought up a time you'd been in the exact same situation, and chose the higher route. I'm just wondering what happened to you, that that boy grew into the man you are right now."

"That boy grew up, married a fantastic woman, and had a beautiful daughter with her. A daughter who nearly got kidnapped by one of his archenemies when she was barely a year old. An arch enemy who swore he wouldn't stop coming until he was eating that boy's daughter alive in front of him."

Peter took a great deal of satisfaction from watching Fisk's expression crumble.

* * *

 **So, this is more or less the end of this little pseudo-filler-arc (which, honestly, is really what these last few chapters have been). We'll be back to the main conspiracy plot in the next chapter. I would, however, like to take a second to explain a few things, most of all, what this whole thing with the last couple chapters (disregarding the MJ-and-Annie talk) are about. They're about two things; a bunch of people from Peter's superhero life running into or inserting themselves in him/his life again, and remarking to his face how much he's changed, not entirely for the better; and the idea that being a parent will change what you do and what you want from life. Fisk sort of represents this, turning into a super-NARC working in tandem with the police when he realizes he's going to be a dad and looks deeply at himself, what he does for a living, and his own extremely terrible relationship with HIS dad (within this universe, the Daredevil Netflix history of Fisk is canon (Fisk eventually just snapped and killed his rather horrible dad when his dad started beating his mom, again)), but Peter, as a superhero who formerly abided by a super-strict rule set of putting others before himself and not killing bad guys, embodies this even more. Precisely because he breaks those rules once he has a family of his own to look out for. Which in turn is why so many of his old superhero associates/enemies remark how much he's changed from the guy they all used to know. It's a wonderful little thematic circle.**

 **As for that bit Fisk mentions right at the end, that's an Ultimate Marvel Knights reference. Daredevil is in Fisk's house, about to kill Fisk's wife because Fisk knows who he is and is going to come after him and everyone he knows, but Spidey swings in and talks everyone down with personal examples and higher morals because he's fantastic like that. I also put that in because it also makes what is, in my opinion, one of the most genius hero-villain-dynamic twists in comic history a thing in this story's universe (in the Ultimate universe, it came to light during Marvel Knights that Kingpin, through a bunch of totally unrelated legal kerfuffling that had been going on behind the scenes since pretty much the earliest issues of Ultimate Spider-Man, owned Spider-Man's copyright and licensing trademark, because Peter had never bothered to register himself as such since it would blow his secret identity, and he was a teenager reveling in superpowers at the time and didn't think that far ahead (this was also sort of referenced thematically earlier in Ultimate Spider-Man when a movie is made about him without his consent)). That whole twist also provided one of the most meaningful, again in my opinion, ending panel shots in comic book history.**


	9. Chapter 9- Things Fall Apart

**Note: So, sorry this took so long, but school got crazier. As school does. Then finals snuck up me, which I truly didn't think was possible, but it happened anyway. This was also a section of the story I didn't have fully figured out for a long time, so that was a thing unto itself as well.**

 **I do not own Spider-Man. Please review, comment, or criticize constructively. Most of all, enjoy.**

* * *

The Spectacular Spider-Dad

Chapter 9

Things Fall Apart

* * *

Phil swore as he got voicemail.

"Peter, it's Phil. I did a bit more digging and… I can't talk about this over the phone. We need to meet in person again. Call me as soon as you get this."

He swiftly walked through the halls and got into the elevator, jabbing at the top floor button. The doors closed and the elevator began to rise. Three floors up it stopped, and half a dozen men in suits, most of them carrying briefcases, walked in. One of them bumped into him and mumbled an apology. The elevator rose.

Five floors up, it stopped again. Three men, who looked like STRIKE operatives, got into the elevator. It stopped again another four floors up. Three of the suits got out, another four came in. The elevator rose. Until it stopped dead fifteen floors up. And Phil's gut dropped back down to the floor he started on, his worst suspicions confirmed.

"Before we do this," he tapped a bioscan pulse on his phone, left the microphone on and everything transmitting to his local safe house, set the time-delayed concussion blast on, before loosening his tie. Draw their attention to his head and not his pockets. "Does anyone want to get out?" He could sense amusement brewing in the men and women surrounding him. "It's also fair that you all know, my girlfriend and I are on excellent terms with pretty much all of the Avengers, and they will be extremely miffed if anything too serious happens to me. There this was this scare a few years back, now they're all incredibly protective and concerned." He got a few chuckles with that. "You should also all know my girlfriend is included in that list, and I can personally attest to the fact that she can and will kick any agent's ass if you get her angry enough."

* * *

Mary Jane set the glass down, and let the last few swallows of wine run down her throat.

"This was a great idea." She said thankfully.

"Well, given everything that's been happening lately, I figured you could probably use a bit of a girls' day out." Felicia Hardy leaned back in her chair, swirling the last of her wine, smirking as Mary Jane's eyebrow rose. "He might think he's being subtle about being back out on the streets, but word is spreading, and I know on all levels how stressful that can be."

"Apparently, there _was_ in fact a whole network of secret-handshake superhero associates that I never got introduced into. Don't suppose you could do me a solid, get me in touch with some of your people?" Mary Jane asked, half joking, half hopeful.

"You would not approve of about half of my people, maybe more," Felicia snorted, downing the last of her wine. "And while I don't want to presume anything, no-one I've talked with thinks his little comeback is going to last." Felicia's face fell in response to Mary Jane's. "How long's he planning on…?"

"That's the thing. He doesn't know. None of us do. He said it would just be until he cleared this thing up with Fisk, but he said that he had Fisk totally wrong for once-"

"No way." Felicia cut in in total disbelief

"Yes way, apparently. He got Fisk so totally wrong, he couldn't even tell me how wrong he'd gotten him." Felicia shook her head in astonishment.

"It'll be a kid. Or true love. Well, true-er love, in Wilson's case. Or a rekindling, or something. Probably both at the same time." She smirked at MJ's raised eyebrow, again. "As you well know, I'm speaking from experience." She realized what she'd just said, and it all came rushing back in. She hurriedly waved down the waiter, then glared as Mary Jane reached for her purse. "Don't you even," She said sternly, pointing a finger with all the seriousness she could muster. "Don't even." She forestalled anything MJ might say in protest. "Besides, what's the point of being rich if you can't treat your friends every once in a while?"

That honestly brought Mary Jane up short. There was a time where she and Felicia were as far from friends as two people could be, save the fact that they hadn't tried to kill each other, though back in those days they had come to blows more than once on the occasions their paths had crossed. Her wedding to Peter, ironically, had been the catalyst for the start of actual conversation and later friendship between them.

* * *

The mood in the car was palpably awkward, hesitant, over what the two of them had accidentally stirred up. Mary Jane glanced at Felicia every few minutes, at her faraway gaze, at her white-knuckle-grip on the steering wheel. She could afford to own several far longer cars than the one she was in, and she could afford to not have to drive it herself as well. But not letting her wealth override the little things had been a lesson her husband had imparted on her. Her husband, Flash Thompson. The reason Felicity and Annie went to the same school; the reason Felicia drove herself around town more often than not, only resorting to being driven for especially important public appearances where extravagant shows of money and power were necessitated; the reason she was seemingly unfocused on the road and had a death-grip on the steering wheel.

She'd met Flash at a veteran's benefit the Hardy Foundation had hosted a few years after Mary Jane and Peter had gotten married, and the two had surprisingly immediately hit it off. Things had moved rather quickly from there, and despite unvoiced concerns from many corners (at least the corners that were comprised of friends; the gossip mags and edgy newspapers couldn't help but whip the situation to drum up more sales), they'd proven as perfect compliments to each other as their former also-married nemeses had.

The perfectness of the couple hadn't lasted though, through no fault of their own. In a symbiote invasion of New York, as close to a game-over moment as any MJ or Felicia had seen in their time in the city what with over half the populace and super-people willingly or otherwise playing hosts for psychotic alien parasites, Flash, shifted into the then-active reserves, had been attacked and made a host. He'd managed to retain control of himself long enough to get into the custody of the few safe science experts in the city, offering himself up as a guinea pig for them to figure out a solution.

His offer proved invaluable; the particular breed of invading symbiotes had adapted around the classic countermeasures, and tests on Flash had managed to produce ways to drive them off. Flash's extra passenger had gotten it's own back, unfortunately. It had burrowed deep into him, so that while he had appeared cleared of its influence once a countermeasure was developed, a week after everyone let their guard down, Felicia, Flash, and baby Felicity included, it had made itself known. All three of them had nearly died before Flash had been taken into custody. It had almost been longer than either of their children had been alive since the invasion, and Flash was still in a SHIELD containment facility, having strands of malignant symbiote pulled out of his DNA, to say nothing of the mental scars its influence had undoubtedly left.

Mary Jane reached over at the nearest red light and gave Felicia's hand a tight squeeze. She wasn't about to say she understood; her husband, however often he might've and continued to risk his life, was sane and came home each day. But she could absolutely sympathize. And they both still had their daughters.

* * *

Annie breathed a sigh of relief as the bell rang. She gathered up her notebook and pencils and made her way out of the class. She'd had a test, and with all the craziness going on, she hadn't studied. At least, not as much as she would have preferred to. She still thought she'd done well, thankfully.

She walked a few steps to reach her locker, turning in the combination to open the locked door. She was about to load her things into her backpack when it hit her. That buzzing sensation. She turned, and saw Tommy glaring at her a few doors down. She took a deep breath, set her things on the floor of her locker, and started walking towards him. As she got closer, she could see he had a bandage over his cheek, and she could hardly see one eye from how swollen his eyelids still were, and winced.

"Hey, I, uh… I wanted to say sorry," She started. "I didn't mean to hit you that hard. I mean, I totally meant to hit you, because you were being a jerk, but I… I didn't mean to hurt you that bad…" She trailed off as his glare remained firmly in place. Tommy held her gaze for a few more seconds before he slammed his locker shut and brushed past her, firmly banging into her shoulder as he walked. Annie turned and stuck her tongue out at his back as she walked back to her locker. The buzzing feeling returned as she approached her locker. She slid her notebook and pencils into her hanging backpack, and was just getting one strap over her shoulder when she was grabbed from behind.

"Hey girl!" Felicity Hardy had a giant grin plastered over her face, one Annie couldn't help but copy. "Where were you all day?" Felicity asked.

"Sitting alone. Punishment from on high for fighting with Tommy." Annie replied glumly.

"Seriously? You got in trouble with you parents for standing up to that jerk?" Felicity cried indignantly.

"Yea-" Annie stopped and gasped, the buzzing, the danger-sense, returning yet again, even stronger. She groaned and grasped at her head. It was stronger than she'd ever felt it, even stronger than in the Hall of Science…

She acted on instinct, throwing herself against the lockers and dragging Felicity with her while screaming as loud as she could for the benefit of others.

She saw a bright green flash at the far end of the hall and heard a roaring sound punctuated by a synthesized, gleeful screaming before a wave of force and heat knocked her down.

* * *

"Ned! Ben! Parker! My office, now!" Jameson's voice rang out clear across the loud bustle of the office. Peter took a moment as he got up from his seat to reflect on how, despite the years he'd been working at the Bugle, Jameson still used his last name more often than not.

Heading through the door, Peter was taken aback. Jameson looked as reserved, as worried, as Peter had ever seen him. At least as Peter. The few occasions he'd run in with Jameson in costume could provide much more intense looks of worry. Jameson looked straight at Peter before sighing.

"Just got off with… doesn't matter," Jameson rubbed at his eyes, dragging his hand down across his face. He was practically composing himself. It was honestly terrifying. "Peter," If Peter hadn't been worried before, he was now. His first name was out there. "There was some sort of explosion at Carter Elementary." Jameson turned his gaze to Ned and Ben, and cleared his throat to get their attention as they both turned towards Peter. "You two get down there, get any statements, any information you can. You," Jameson returned his gaze to Peter and pointed a finger at him, "Go with them in whatever either one of them is driving. Quicker and cheaper than taking a cab or the tube. And if you bring in a single photo of this, I won't accept anything you send across my desk until you've had some professional help." Jameson reached out and clapped Peter on the shoulder, somewhat awkwardly, somewhat meaningfully. Peter nodded in thanks and led the way out of Jameson's office at near-top speed, Ben and Ned trailing behind him.

* * *

Mary Jane and Felicia moved through the small crowd, composed of part firefighters, part EMDs, and part fellow terrified parents. An ad hoc emergency center had been erected in a series of ambulances and tents barely a block from the still-smoldering building; traffic was too heavy in the middle of the day to risk mass transport to hospitals of everyone in the school. Part of Mary Jane wanted to move through the crowd on her own, but she knew Annie. Annie would stick with her friends when all was said and done, which meant she'd be with or near Felicity. So she followed and helped Felicia.

It took them ten minutes, between the emergency services still moving between the center and the school and setting up temporary facilities, and other, equally worried, searching parents. But they found Felicity. Alone.

Mary Jane gave the two a few minutes. She would've given them a bit longer, but Felicity saw her waiting and broke her mother's desperate embrace.

* * *

Felicity struggled to her feet, ears ringing, eyes burning. She took a breath and immediately wished she hadn't, almost choking on the smoke and scorched air. She could swear she saw bright green fire swirling out of one of the far doorways. She looked around. Annie was fine, though also coughing horribly, and a girl from English class was bleeding from a cut on her arm. Everyone else she could see seemed fairly decent, considering.

There was a crashing sound, as the floor above them caved in. Not on any of them, but plaster, lockers, and wall collapsed through the ceiling right in the middle of the hallway, blocking all of them off from the exit. The path behind was nothing but that same strange green fire, slowly getting closer. Boys and girls alike started screaming, crying.

Felicity saw Annie look at the mass of broken bits, then had to wonder as a look of absolute determination crossed her face. Annie rushed to her locker, yanking out her hoodie, then sprinted to the water fountain built into the wall between her row of lockers and the next row down. She slammed the button down and held her hoodie beneath the stream of water that Felicity was surprised could still come out. Annie turned the hoodie in her hands, getting almost every part of it soaking wet, then threw it on over herself. She turned.

"I need some shirts!" She yelled.

"What good'll shirts do?" It was Tommy, yelling back.

"It'll take too long to explain! You want to get out of here?" Tommy nodded as Annie stormed up to him. "Give me your shirt, then."

A girl tossed Annie her sweatshirt, and Annie quickly soaked both tops in the fountain, like she'd done with her hoodie. She spread them across her palms and fingers, then did her best to tie them around her hands. She approached the blockage, and glared at it before grabbing at the bottom of a wall near the bottom of the pile.

"That's your plan?!" Tommy yelled in disbelief. "You can't lift that! That's way too-" Annie groaned in exertion and stood up, lifting the wall and some of the blockage with her. She held it in place, breathing heavily, before she pushed up higher with her hands and slowly walked inwards, shifting the rubble in the pile. Felicity could feel everyone's jaws slam into the floor, her own included.

Annie stopped, taking quick but heavy gasps of breath, holding a mind-bogglingly large chunk of the blockage at almost shoulder level. She took a deep breath, shut her eyes, then screamed in exertion, pushing up with all her might and walking and shifting as forcefully yet carefully as she could. She'd forced an opening just large enough and wide enough for everyone to get through.

"Annie, that's-" Felicity began to call out.

"This is really heavy!" Annie yelled back.

"Yeah, I-" A boy from Annie's class started to say.

"SO MOVE!" Annie screeched, widening her stance and letting her shuddering arms drop slightly. Everyone started running through the opening. Felicity went last, and turned halfway down the hall. Annie dove out from under the debris, which crashed to the floor and kicked up a mass of sparks and smoke. Annie vanished from view. Everyone else, even Tommy, stopped and started running back.

"I'm alright! I'm fine!" Annie's voice rang out. "Keep going, find a way out! Or a… firefighter, hopefully!"

* * *

"I, I thought she'd be right behind us, but she…" Felicity tried to go on, but couldn't. "I'm sorry, I-" The girl began to tear up, and quickly found herself enveloped by Mary Jane's arms.

* * *

Peter unlocked the door and slowly stepped into the apartment, his arm still around Mary Jane, her arm still around him. They moved towards the table, and Mary Jane reached up and set Annie's backpack down on it.

Her backpack. It was all that was left. One of the EMTs had told them in their frantic search that everyone not in the center was on their way to the nearest hospital, and if they weren't in either place, personal effects were set at one side. They'd found her backpack there, among many other items. It was badly scorched, and the few colors that survived were somewhat bleached by exposure to the heat, but it was recognizably Annie's. A section of the hammer Mjolnir and a lighting bolt were still visible on the intact part of the plastic front. She'd always liked Thor, even if she could never have explained exactly why.

Peter and Mary Jane, together, unzipped the top of the bag and drew out its contents. Charred notebooks with twisted ruined masses of ringed spirals, burned-black pencils, the remains of the sandwich they'd packed for her, the plastic bag melted into lengths of pulled-off crust.

Peter's hand scrapped against something unfamiliar. A small, rough cubic shape. He closed his hand around it and drew out a small black container, one he didn't recognize. He looked at Mary Jane, saw the unfamiliarity in her eyes. There was a notch in the container. Peter pressed into it and lifted, pushing up the top half of the container. Sitting in the center, totally unharmed, was a flash drive. A SHIELD flash drive.

Mary Jane ran to her bag and slid her laptop out of it and onto the table, opening it in the same movement. Peter jammed the flash drive in, which glowed as it powered up. The screen flickered and shifted, replaced by a full-screen video of a man sitting at a desk. He wore a button down shirt, with a loose tie around his neck. His face was in shadow. Until he leaned forward into the light, a sadistic smile on his face.

"Hello, Peter." The recording of Norman Osborn said.

* * *

 **So, the references. Phil's bit in the elevator is ripped straight from The Winter Soldier elevator fight (hands down in my top 2 Marvel movies ever; number 1 is fluid), though the odds are tilted slightly (less guys, and Phil has a hidden pulse bomb in his phone. He's also a bit of a badass). Secondly, there's the whole thing with Flash Thompson, which is one of the big problem areas of this chapter. His history here is a Frankenstein of about three different versions of Flash Thompson; the current Flash Thompson, who lost his legs on tour in the Middle East after re-enlisting (something I decided to keep open to interpretation) and who is also the current Venom, who's actually managed to get the symbiote to behave itself for once and is a member of the Guardians of the Galaxy; the Flash Thompson of the world of May "Mayday" Parker (aka Spider-Girl) who married and eventually split with Felicia Hardy, and they did have a daughter named Felicity, who was kinda friends with May. Symbiote invasions/outbreaks happen in New York in Marvel often enough that I wasn't pulling the possibility of one out of thin air, and it was an good way to inject some more tragedy in. Because I'm sadistic and love tragedy like that *** **cackles on my throne in my evil lair** *****

 **Thirdly, there's Annie's clearing of the path in the fire. Lifting giant loads in desperation is kind of a thing with Spider-Man; he did it in that one Lizard story I played with for its own tragic potential, and he's done it a few other times besides. Now, his little girl gets her shot, and she doesn't even have spandex. They grow up so fast, don't they?**

 **I also want to talk about Felicia and MJ, because that is something I think would absolutely happen if Cat could just swear off thieving for good. Without having Peter to compete over, those two would get along great. There also HAS to be some sort of network of people who know all about and keep an eye on the superhero goings-on in their part of town, and thus gossip accordingly with current and former heroes and people said heroes have let in on their secrets.**

 **Lastly, the true mastermind is at last revealed!**


	10. Chapter 10- The Center Cannot Hold

**Note: I've been riding high on the last true break I'll ever have (December-encompassing winter break in senior year of college, WHOOO!), so I'm not quite as focused on doing, well, anything as I would be during school periods. But, anyway. Anyone watch Agents of SHIELD? Remember how I said Coulson was a bit of a badass, just because, in that ending author's note last chapter? Well holy hell, has Agents spent the last two episodes affirming that Coulson is a through-and-through badass! Also, Celgress, I honestly didn't write that bit about Coulson's girlfriend to suggest he's going out with She-Hulk, though in retrospect I totally see how it comes across that way. Something I'm going to have to decide on before I reach the end of this story (originally, he was just doing what he was doing pre-Avengers-Death (which he narrowly dodged in this universe), dating a cellist from Portland who'd had a run-in with a very obsessed super-powered individual that Coulson had helped capture, but now…hmmm…).**

 **I do not own Spider-Man. Please review, comment, or criticize constructively. Most of all, enjoy.**

* * *

The Spectacular Spider-Dad

Chapter 10

The Center Cannot Hold

* * *

"Now, before we go any further," The smirking image of Norman Osborn said, "I want to make certain… well, I couldn't call them assurances, but, I want to offer reasonable assumptions to you, Peter. If everything went according to plan, and my men were competent at their jobs, your daughter should still be alive, if not exactly well." He smiled at that, waiting. He'd clearly known what reaction his words would incite; Peter was gripping the table so hard the wood was breaking beneath his fingers. "Though, of course, it'll be out of my hands well before you even see this, so her survival is admittedly up in the air. I do want you to know I honestly hope she's alive. If only because that makes her on more thing I can personally take from you."

In the video, Norman leaned forward, the mirth on his face slowly being replaced with wrath. "I've had some time abroad, so to speak. Kept in SHIELD custody, made to work on special projects, forcibly hopped up on pills that made my mind _itch_. And degrading as that was, it offered me a certain perspective. Gave me a window back into my old life. The life I lost because of you." Osborn leaned in closer, teeth clenched. "You took everything from me, Peter. My company. My normalcy. My wife. My son. And I never truly appreciated their losses until I caught that glimpse back. And now that I've gotten out from under SHIELD's thumb, I intend to pay you back in kind. I'm going to take everything from you, Peter."

* * *

Annie groggily opened her eyes. Her vision was blurry, and everything felt… slower than usual. Unfocused. The last thing she remembered was a hand going over her mouth while she tried to make her way through the school, and a prick in her arm. She felt whatever she was laying on jostle beneath her, and groaned at the pain in her head that hit her as she moved.

"Kid's waking up." She heard an unfamiliar voice say.

"Think the stuff is working?" Another voice asked.

"How should I know?" The first one replied.

Annie haphazardly scrambled up, and reached for the metal wall behind her. She tried to climb up as her vision started to clear, but her grip was… strange. She couldn't hold onto the wall like she normally could. And it wasn't because she was still somewhat out of it. It was like her powers weren't-

Her grip failed entirely, and she fell straight off the wall onto the floor. She started to recognize her surroundings. She was in the back of a van, sort of like a SWAT van from the cop shows Mom watched, and occasionally was in. Men with ski masks and helmets and bulletproof vests, with weird-looking shoulder patches, were all around her. Reacting on instinct, she threw a punch at the nearest one. He stumbled back into the bench built into the walls of the van, but she'd hit him hard enough that he should have been lifted off his feet.

"Hey, guess what," One of the men said. "It's working."

"Not as well as the boss said it would." Another said.

"So give her another shot." The voice came from the very front. The van shifted as it took a turn, and one of the men got up, pulling out a syringe filled with some dark red liquid. Pain, a different type of pain, shot through Annie's head. She recognized what this had to be. She reached, leaped, for the wall, grasping desperately with her fingers and feet as the men grabbed for her-

The opposite end of the van bent as _something_ big and fast smashed into it. Annie could hear glass shatter from the front, and screamed as the whole van tipped clean over and crashed on its side. She barely clung to the wall, while the men were thrown against the walls and tumbled around.

* * *

Kitridge frowned as a garbage truck barreled out of a side street and plowed into the van. A man in a suit jumped out of the passenger side and started firing into the bottom of the tipped vehicle. From what Kitridge could see, he was firing _through_ the bottom of the van. He lowered the camera slung around his neck and tapped his ear.

"Sir, we've got a little complication. Probably that agent you were worried about. Want me to-"

"If you seriously need to ask me that, Kitridge…" The threat went unspoken.

"Got it, sir." Kitridge reached into the bag at his feet and drew out a folded rifle. He yanked back on the stock, sliding it out of the frame, and screwed the barrel into place. "Proceed as planned once I'm done here?" He asked, lining up the shot.

"Of course." Kitridge winced as he saw another bout of shots, and ran the numbers in his head.

"Sir, Team A might be down, just the same. If you want this to still work, suggest you mobilize Team B."

* * *

Annie tried to scramble to her feet, but she wasn't totally sure where the floor was, and her head was still spinning from whatever the men had given her, to say nothing of the relatively high-speed collision.

A series of high-tech-sounding bangs rang out, and bursts of light carved through the opposite end of the van. The men, still stumbling to their feet, all quickly fell back down, shot in their backs or through their legs. Another bang went off by the back doors and the lock was blasted to pieces. The doors were yanked open, and once her vision fully clear, all Annie could do was gape at the person on the other side.

"Uncle Phil?"

* * *

 **So, yeah, a bit of a lighter ending than the last chapter, but the stuff I've got planned as an immediate following is far heavier stuff, and I want to get something up so the story itself doesn't wither and die on the vine, so to speak. Phil also took a page from the book of John Reese, so that was fun to write (that is to say, crashing into cars full of bad guys with much larger trucks. And John Reese is from Person of Interest, an excellent action/sci-fi show I'd recommend to anyone).**

 **It's also worth noting that the history of Spider-Man and the Green Goblin is, like everything else, a bit of a hybrid of multiple histories. In this case, it's a mixture of the Spectacular cartoon (because the Connors connection is just too good, like SO many other great things about that show that died too young) and Ultimate, where the spider that bites Peter is infused with a Oscorp enhancing compound that Osborn later decides to inject himself after seeing what it does to Peter, thus leading to him (and Harry, via lab explosion and chemical exposure) becoming the Green and Hob-Goblins respectively. This also plays into that second death of Harry's that I couldn't talk about in the AN from Chapter 6; another Ultimate Sinister Six reference, wherein Harry tried working with Spider-Man and SHIELD to stop them, and Norman killed Harry in a fit of villainous Goblin-crazy-rage, then seemed to let himself get gunned down by SHIELD attack teams because he couldn't live with himself afterwards. Norman wasn't killed then, either, and was held in custody so SHIELD could try and replicate his way-more-powerful-in-the-Ultimate-universe powers. It went about as well as it goes in this story. Which is to say it went horribly.**


End file.
